Sunday, October 26, 2014

I include myself in this outraged criticism. Whenever I have the clarity of mind to notice that I'm unhappy with (for example) the ambient temperature of a room/there being too much sunshine/the excessive presence of humans nearby, it's important to remember:

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

(I spilled a few drops of water on this drawing, so that's why there are odd streaks. I could have photoshopped it out, but given that I'm still living out of my fieldwork suitcase, I had other priorities).

Saturday, October 4, 2014

“There is no reason to be upset,” I hear myself saying into the silence. The children, the teachers, and the SWAT team are all watching very closely. “If everyone holds perfectly still, I promise she won’t bite.” I say this, but across the room, my velociraptor doesn’t look convinced.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Only clowns came to Connor’s birthday
party that year. They arrived by the carful, in improbable but
ever-increasing numbers. They all seemed to know him— was this a
strange prank? Were they all his seven and eight year old friends in
disguise? But Connor didn’t have this many friends, and the clowns
were all grown-ups. He went warily through the motions of the party,
but worried about how it would end. The clowns were apparently having
the time of their lives, and the party was supposed to have ended
hours ago, but showed no signs of letting up. And where were his
parents?